


Small Revenge

by Marian_De_Haan



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Post-Episode: s0206 Trial, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 02:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20667533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marian_De_Haan/pseuds/Marian_De_Haan
Summary: Blake tries to recruit an enthusiastic rebel as a replacement for Gan, but the recruit appears to have personality issues.





	Small Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Published in Star 4 in October 2000. Reproduced here on the author's behalf and with the author's permission.  
Illustrations by Susan Beth.

"Information," Zen intoned. "_Liberator _is now within teleport range of the planet Amira."

"Thank you, Zen." From the corner of his eye. Blake saw Avon silently enter the ﬂight deck. His splendid blue-and-silver tunic outshone even Jenna's colourful creation. No matter how ridiculous his outfit, Avon always managed to look both elegant and aristocratic in it.

Blake cast his attention back to the computer: "Maintain a geostationary orbit over the emission point of the signal."

"And keep your scanners on full alert," Avon added. "Warn us immediately of any approaching craft. And..." His brown eyes shot a challenging glance at Blake. "...plot us a standby course out."

While Zen confirmed the instructions, Blake walked over to the weapons storage compartment, aware of his crew's attention. This was their first mission since Gan's death and their subsequent attack on Space Command Headquarters, and he could feel the tension.

"Avon, I want you to come with me."

"No."

Blake tensed; Avon had never before refused a direct command. He was aware of the other crew members watching the insubordination in uncharacteristic silence. Jenna's face was set in loathing, Cally's in disapproval and Vila's in something resembling secret admiration.

"Would you care to give us your reasons?"

Avon climbed into his position. "This mission does not require any of my skills. You defined it as a simple pick up operation, to lift a worthy freedom fighter off from Amira."

Blake could still hear Avon's arguments against the operation ringing in his ears. The fact that he'd been outvoted again must have riled him more than usual.

Avon folded his arms. "Ask one of your followers, Blake."

Blake forced himself not to show his irritation. "I prefer you to accompany me."

The mutineer slowly, eyebrows. "Why?"

"To guard my back." Avon laughed. "Then you really are a fool!" He gestured theatrically at Cally who sat at the communications position. "Here we have a trained guerrilla ﬁghter..."

"That's true," Vila exclaimed. "You should take her with you to Fosforon, Avon, instead of me."

"I'd be happy to." Avon gave him a shark's smile. "Regretfully, I may be in need of your special talents for gaining entrance there. Or do you suggest I put in an ofﬁcial request to see the base commander?"

Avon re-addressed Blake: "Moreover, Jenna was already dealing with some of the galaxy's hardest thugs while you and l were still respected citizens. They both have far more experience than I with handling guns, not to mention unarmed combat."

He knew Avon was right. The simple fact was that he felt it prudent to keep an eye on his most reluctant companion. Jenna and Cally he did trust; Avon's allegiance should never be taken for granted.

But Blake had no means to force him. Accepting Avon's refusal with a shrug, he turned his back on him. "Jenna, will you come with me?"

With a curt nod she left her position to take a gun from the rack.

Fastening his gun-belt, Blake walked over to Cally's position. "Are you still getting the signal?"

"It is constant," she replied.

Avon handed him a small receiver. "This is locked onto the signal."

Blake checked the setting. "Right. We'll go down a fraction away from the emission point, just to be on the safe side. Vila, you can work the teleport for us."

  
When the others had left the ﬂight deck, Cally turned to the man who, although now her lover, could still be as distant as the next galaxy. "That was unnecessary."

Avon moved over to the main pilot's position. "I thought I heard you and Jenna say you were fed up with wasting your talents on teleport duty, while we men get all the excitement on Blake's dangerous missions."

"You've been eavesdropping!"

He grinned. "Whenever I can."

Cally shook her head in sad reproach; Avon was incorrigible. "Blake needs your support."

"Then he should listen to me! Getting hold of that decoding crystal is more important than giving a lift to some zealous rebel who's managed to get himself marooned on a backwater planet without transport."

"It will not take long."

"Let's hope so. A passing Federation spacecraft-patrol might pick up his signal and decide that it merits investigation."

Cally shrugged. "You know _Liberator's_ faster than anything the Federation has. That's why Avalon asked our help."

"And Blake complied, without consulting us — as usual." Avon punched some keys on the console with unnecessary force.

Cally walked over to him. "Speed was essential, he had to change course at once. He discussed it with us afterwards."

"He did not discuss it," Avon corrected her. "He told us our new destination — after I had confronted him with the course change."

"Well, then obviously he relied on you to remark upon it." Cally halted at his side. Avon's aura, pulsing around him with tremendous force, engulfed her. Gratefully, she let it seep into her being. Of all the crew members, Avon was mentally the most independent from human company. That independence ﬁlled his aura, a force Cally could tap into and absorb.

Cut off from the telepathic company of her people. she was desperately lonely. Sharing Avon's mental force gave her the strength to hear her isolation. Just being close to him had been enough — until the shock of Gan's death. Now she needed the energy unleashed by their lovemaking to fight her despair.

Avon had been scrupulously honest with her: "No demands, no commitment." Cally knew she had to accept his conditions, just as he accepted her unwavering allegiance to Blake's cause. She appreciated Avon's forthrightness, an unexpected trait in a man who professed to be totally devious. Cally had met a number of humans who pretended to be better than they were. Avon was her only experience of the opposite.

Avon kept his eyes on the screen in front of him. The rows of data had no meaning for Cally but she caught his mood. "You are not just angry about the waste of time. There's more."

That made him look at her: "Can't you really work it out? We've lost a crew member, and suddenly this dedicated, experienced resistance fighter turns up. Do you seriously believe we'll just be giving him a lift?"

Cally stared at him in dismay. "You think Blake's planning to recruit him?"

"I think he has already done so."

She shook her head. "Blake would not do that, surely — not without consulting us."

"He's done it before."

She knew he meant the time that Blake had invited her to join them. "Don't tell me you have cause to regret that decision."

Avon's face creased into one of those smiles which made you forgive him almost anything. "On the contrary, I consider it the only sensible move Blake ever made." Serious again, he added: "But the fact remains that he did not consult us."

"Well, you're wrong in this case. Blake's just doing Avalon a favour."

"Ah yes, the poor but honest Avalon." Avon's voice was desert-dry. "If she's rating this Romin Kentor so highly, why doesn't she send her own ship for him?"

"Because she hasn't one available right now. You heard what Blake said. They use Amira for training, shipping new recruits there every three months and taking back the ones who've finished the course. With her stretched resources, Avalon simply can't afford to send a spacecraft all the way there for just one man."

"Then why can't he wait for the regular flight? And what's he doing there anyway?"

"I don't know, but obviously he's urgently needed elsewhere." Noticing Avon's sceptical smile, Cally sighed. "Why can't you take this for what it is, a simple favour to a fellow rebel?"

Avon touched a key and the screen went blank. "Because with _Blake_," he made the name sound like an oath, "things are never simple!"

Conditions on the planet Amira would have been pleasant but for extreme humidity. The moment Blake and Jenna materialized, the stale, clammy air fell on them like a wet blamket. They were in a densely wooded area. Enormous trees with purple trunks and red feather-like leaves soared skywards, preventing the sunlight from reaching the undergrowth of orange ferns.

"The ideal holiday resort." Jenna remarked. "I can see why the Federation didn't trouble to colonise this planet."

"Amira has no natural resources," Blake said. "No arable land, ore, minerals or precious stones. But it is ideal for guerrilla training."

"Deﬁnitely! After three months of this a penal planet must feel like a holiday camp!"

Blake consulted his receiver. "The signal comes from that direction,"

They began to negotiate a path between the heavy rooted trees. Gravity was slightly higher than on Earth and that, combined with the oppressive air, made the going difficult. The layer of rotting vegetation on the ground emitted a pungent smell at every step they took.

While part of Blake's attention was on his task, another part pondered on the man Avalon had recommended him as replacement for Gan. She had described Romin Kentor as brave, intelligent, dedicated to the cause, and highly resourceful. Besides all that, he was an accomplished computer technician, something Blake had been especially looking for.

Having another computer expert aboard _Liberator _would make them no longer dependent on Avon. That dependence had always worried Blake. Granted, Avon had not yet once let him down. Sometimes, beneath all his cynical disavowal of Blake's cause, he seemed not unhappy at all to inﬂict damage to the Federation. At other times, Avon appeared totally committed to his own ends, just biding his time until he could take over command of the Liberator. Blake knew that, however much he longed to do so, he could never afford to trust his most valuable crew member.

He sighed inwardly, not looking forward to the reaction of his crew when they found out that Kentor had come to stay. He did not like to mislead them but if he had told them in advance, there would have been vehement protests, endless arguments...

Once Kentor was aboard, they would simply have to accept the fait accompli.

Blake desperately needed someone he could depend on, now Gan's death had shattered the delicate balance within the group. With Gan and the women ﬁrmly on Blake's side and Vila always going with the majority, Avon had been isolated.

But now allegiances were changing. The brutal than reminder of their own mortality had brought Avon and Cally to bond. Oh, they were discreet, but in a group living as close together as _Liberator's_ crew, something like that could not be hidden. Blake smiled grimly - they were the most unlikely couple: on Auron telepath craving for companionship and a Terran crook with a preference for solitude.

In principle. Blake did not begrudge them their relationship; it seemed even to be working to his advantage, in bringing Avon to a more active contribution to their fight. With Orac failing to find a reference to the location of Central Control in the Federation's computer system and unable to break its transmission codes, Avon had come up with the plan to acquire the TP crystal necessary to update their purloined cipher machine.

It might be a genuine contribution, or merely a ruse to alleviate Blake's suspicions while the plot to take _Liberator _was worked out. With Avon, you simply never could be certain.

Blake felt more vulnerable and isolated than at any time since he had set foot aboard _Liberator _— but also more determined to bring the Federation down. He had to succeed, otherwise Gan's death would have been in vain.

They ploughed on in silence. Blake's tunic, dark green with wide sleeves, hung wet and heavy round his large frame. Jenna's tightly fitting body suit, adorned with colourful gauzy shawls, was equally soaked. Her feet felt clummy in the high-heeled boots.

Jenna was angry: at Blake for taking her support for granted and at herself for once more complying with his wishes.

He had disregarded her rights right from the beginning. He, she and Avon had boarded _Liberator _together, which gave them an equal claim to the ship. Yet Blake had commandeered it for his fight without even a by-your-leave, expecting his companions to go along with his plans! And they had always danced to his tune, even Avon despite his independent stance.

Dammit, why did she continue to follow Blake? Jenna had never before bowed to a man; she had made men bow to her. Yet Blake took her allegiance for granted. He saw her as a companion, an ally, a bodyguard - but never as a woman. While she... Well, why deny her feelings? There was nothing shameful about a woman fancying a man. The problem was that Blake's ardour for his cause seemed to block out any carnal desire in him.

The fact that Cally had found solace in Avon's arms was doubly galling. Jenna supposed she should be grateful that the Auron seemed to be content with that cold freak. Ever since Blake had brought Cally aboard Jenna has feared her as a rival. Now she was still not convinced of Cally's sincerity. She could not understand how anyone - even an alien - could feel anything other than contempt for that selﬁsh bastard. It had to be a plot. Did Cally hope to make Blake jealous? Show him that she was a desirable woman?

As for Avon bedding an alien... Jenna could look back on a varied and satisfactory love life, but she had drawn the line at aliens. The thought of mating with one was utterly repulsive to her.

Clearly, Avon would do anything to get Cally on his side. Jenna had never been in doubt about his aim: Avon wanted the Liberator. Had he not tried to tempt her into ditching Blake at the ﬁrst opportunity? He had nearly succeeded, too, something Jenna would never forgive him for.

And now that idiot Vila had started toadying up to Avon. It was inevitable, Jenna supposed, that after Gan's death Vila would want to look for another protector. For such a weakling, attaching yourself to the strongest available individual was an essential survival tactic - a skill which Vila, having been in and out of prison since his youth, had by now perfected. Jenna remembered him once saying that he would put his money on Blake if it came to a showdown. Apparently he had now changed his mind, judging Avon to be the potential winner.

That was something Jenna found very disquieting indeed...

Blake suddenly halted, causing Jenna to almost bump into him. Angry at her lack of attention, she looked over his shoulder. A few metres above the ground, a timber building had been constructed between the trees. Resting on some staunch branches, it measured two or three metres cubed. A rope ladder was hanging from a platform in front of the doorway.

The door, a contraption of rough planks of the same local wood, was closed. Blake consulted his receiver. "The signal's coming from inside."

Frowning, Jenna scanned the surroundings. "You'd expect someone to be on the lookout."

Blake shrugged. "I'd better take a look."

"I'll keep out of sight and cover you," Jenna said, reverting to the role of efficient bodyguard.

Blake began to climb up the rope-construction while Jenna held her gun trained on the door. When he reached the platform, he drew his gun. Pointing it at the door, he gestured for Jenna to come up.

She took over the watch again while he pushed against the door. It turned silently inwards. Cautiously, they stepped inside.

The doorway led straight into a room which seemed to take up the whole length of the building. Inside it was dusky, the small windows high up inthe walls shaded by foliage.There was very little furniture in the room, just a single table stacked with cooking utensils and two rough chests against the back wall. In the center stood a metal brazier, which held no fire. Next to it lay a shadowy form, half over a heavy wooden ladder.

They hurried forward. With their eyes adjusting to the dark, the form took on the shape of a man.

Blake knelt at his side, feeling relief when he found a pulse. "He's alive."

Jenna walked over to the table. It held a stack of empty cups and plates, at large bowl with water and several dirty cloths. She selected the one that looked the cleanest, dipped it in the water and brought it over to the man.

He stirred when she applied the wet cloth to his face. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open in alarm.

"It's all right," Blake said. "We're friends."

Laying down the cloth, Jenna asked: "Who are you?"

"Romin Kentor." The man blinked, trying to focus. "You're Blake. I recognise your face."

Blake nodded, wincing at this reminder of the time when he had appeared on the Federation's telecasts renouncing his cause. "This is Jenna, my pilot. What's the matter with you?"

"I fell - that dammed ladder slipped from its blocks." Kentor pointed a finger to a square hole in the wooden ceiling. "I was climbing down from the sleeping quarters."

He moved to get up but lay back with a groan. "I think I've hurt my back."

"Don't move!" Blake said. "We can't risk you aggravating your injury."

He pressed the communicator on his teleport bracelet. "Vila, we've found Kentor, but he's hurt. Send Cally down with a medical kit. Get a fix on these co-ordinates."

While Vila conﬁrmed his orders, Jenna produced a spare bracelet. "Don't worry. Our medical equipment is far advanced compared to what the Federation's got. You'll be fine."

Even in the dim light, Kentor's face looked drawn and pale. His lean, sharp features were reminiscent of a rodent. Lank fair hair hung over his forehead. He was dressed in a sweater and trousers made of a greyish, smooth, damp-resistant material.

While she fastened the bracelet around Kentor's wrist, Jenna asked: "Are you alone here?"

"Yes, the others have gone on a training exercise. They won't be back for another two days." Kentor fingered the bracelet. "Is this part of your teleport? Avalon told me—"

He fell silent when Cally began to materialise. Blake introduced them, then told her about Kentor's fall.

Kneeling down at his side, Cally pulled up Kentor's sweater and put a scanner to his body. The dim light was just sufﬁcient to read the diagnosis. "It's not too bad. I"ll apply a regeneration pad. To Blake she added: "It will take some time".

Kentor's smile of thanks was a little strained. Blake saw him relax when the healing pad began to do its work.

Blake's gaze drifted to Jenna, who had begun to move idly around the mom. Obviously, was finding nothing worth her attention. Living standards here were primitive indeed.

He almost started when his teleport bracelet chimed, immediately followed by Avon's distinctive voice: "Zen's registering three Federation craft approaching."

Kentor gave a gasp, eyeing Blake's bracelet as if it had bitten him.

"Keep still," Cally warned, struggling to keep the pad pressed to his back.

"Just what we need." Jenna murmured.

Blake brought his bracelet up to his mouth. "Are they heading for this planet?"

"It looks like it. They probably want to investigate that homing signal. Why don't you switch it off?"

Jenna was already addressing Kentor: "Where is it?"

He lay staring at Blake, seemingly oblivious of the question. His pale complexion had gone deadly white.

"Kentor!" Blake urged. kneeling at his other side. "Where is the homing device?"

That brought on a reaction: "In my pocket."

"Deactivate it!"

Carefully avoiding straining his back, Kentor worked his hand inside his hip pocket.

"The signal's stopped," Avon told them. "But you'd better hurry. Their scanners will pick us up in twenty minutes."

"We'll be as quick as we can." Breaking the connection, Blake asked Kentor: "What's the matter?"

Kentor swallowed."That voice..."

"That's Avon." Blake said. "One of my crew."

"He wouldn't agree with that." Jenna murmured.

Cally smiled in amused concurrence.

"He's the swine from Central Security." Kentor hissed. "The brute who interrogated me after my arrest."

"What?" Jenna exclaimed.

Blake shook his head. "You must be mistaken. Avon's never worked for Central Security."

"We don't know that," Jenna said. "He's never been very forthcoming about his past, has he?"

"We know about his career," Cally pointed out.

"Only what he told us. And he only tells us something when it suits him to do so."

"Three years ago that man was a Federation official," Kentor said. "Obviously, he doesn't want you to know about it."

"Obviously." Jenna was all too ready to believe the worst of Avon.

Cally looked from her to Kentor. "That's ridiculous! Avon would not want to work for them!"

"No, it makes sense!" in a flash, Jenna saw the solution for something that had been bothering her. "For a simple computer specialist Avon knows far too much about other subjects. In the Federation you get a choice, Cally. You're allotted one subject for study, and then you're assigned to work in that field. To know us much as he does, Avon must either have done a lot of job-rotation, or he must have been allowed to do a lot of study. And for that you must be very high up in the Federation ranks."

"You must be mistaken." Blake told Kentor again.

"I am not! I never heard his name but I do recognise the voice. He was nasty, arrogant, full of contempt..."

"Sounds like our Avon." Jenna said.

"Can you describe him?" Cally asked Kentor.

"Oh yes, I'll never forget that face. Lean, dark hair, an eye patch..."

"What?" Blake exclaimed.

Cally smiled in relief. "Avon doesn't wear an eye patch."

"Not now." Another observation clicked into place in Jenna's mind. "But haven't you noticed how, when he raises his eyebrows, one goes up further than the other. That could indicate an injury to his face at some time in the past. She turned to Kentor. "Tell us about your arrest."

The rebel obliged with some reluctance. Apparently the occurrence was not something he liked reminded of.

"On Earth I was employed as head of the salary administration of Terran Electronics. Having joined the Resistance Movement, I devised a scheme for laundering a large sum away to their secret account. It should have worked - I never knew what went wrong. But just when I was ready to enter the order to transfer the money, I was arrested and dragged off to Central Security Headquarters. There I was interrogated by your associate and another thug..."

Cally's timer beeped. She removed the pad.

Kentor sat gingerly up. "He waved a laser probe about and threatened to burn out my eyes unless I confessed."

Blake was horrified. "You mean Avon did that?"

For a moment, Kentor seemed tempted to say yes, then he shook his head. "No, that was the other one. Your friend conﬁned himself to telling me, in that infuriating superior manner of his, that denial was useless because he could prove my crime."

Lowering his sweater, Kentor continued indignantly: "He had it all reconstructed, every bloody step of the way. All my moves, the hacking, the entry codes — everything!"

"So you confessed," Jenna deduced.

Kentor stood, rubbing his back. "They did not leave me any choice."

Blake ran a thumb over his lips in thought. "The usual punishment for fraud is exile. How did you escape?"

"It never came to a trial. I got away straight after the interrogation. Your frind was foolish enough to leave the door unlocked. I walked out the moment they were gone."

Blake frowned. "You walked out of Central Security's interrogation centre and nobody stopped you?"

"That's how it was. The guards at the entrance were checking who got in, not who went out. I just walked past them." Kentor shrugged. "Obviously, they were not expecting an interrogator to forget to lock a cell door properly."

"I can't believe that of Avon." Jenna said.

Cally echoed her thoughts: "He's not that stupid!"

"I'm telling you," Kentor snapped. "He held the door open for the other, who was boasting about how this catch would bring him promotion. Your friend followed him out but forgot to lock the door."

"It must have been a trap." Jenna observed . "

Kentor nodded. "The thought crossed my mind, but I decided to risk it. Being shot while escaping seemed preferable to exile on some awful penal planet!" He shook his head in wonder. "I could not believe my luck! And it held. I managed to—"

He fell silent when Blake's bracelet chimed again.

"What's keeping you?" Avon enquired. "Welcoming party?"

Blake pressed the communicator. "All right. Vila, we're ready—"

Kentor took his arm. "One moment, Blake. l have to get my things."

"Hold it, Vila," Blake instructed. "We'll be ready in a few minutes. Out." Seeing Kentor reach down to pick up the ladder, he quickly took hold of one end. "Mind you back."

He noticed that the two blocks nailed to the floor planks to keep the ladder from sliding had come loose. Obviously, that was what had caused the accident.

Having positioned the ladder into the hatch, Blake held it while Kentor climbed up. Jenna came to stand at the other side of the ladder, facing him. One of the rungs shadowed her face, separating the blazing eyes from the set mouth.

"We'll have to decide what to do with Avon! A man who worked as a professional torturer—"

"You can't believe that!" Cally strode towards them.

Jenna gave her a look of contempt. "Of course you feel obliged to defend him. But the fact that he deigns to share his bed with you does not mean that he's prepared to share his secrets."

Cally's hollow cheeks coloured a bright red. "You never take the trouble to look beyond appearances, do you, Jenna? Avon's as disgusted with the Federation's atrocities as we are. He would never work for Central Security!"

She turned to Blake. "You don't believe it?"

"I don't know, Cally." He quickly raised a hand to forestall her reaction. "I agree that Avon isn't a torturer — not with a laser probe," he amended dryly. recalling Blake the man's vitriolic tongue. "But he could have been an investigator. Pitting his wits against intelligent schemers and proving himself clever would be just his line. Remember that bit of sleuthing he did on the "Ortega".

Blake braced the ladder again when Kentor started climbing down. The rebel wore a dark jacket and had a satchel hanging from his shoulder.

Stepping onto the floor, Kemtor stated: "You can never trust a man who worked for Central Security."  
  
"Exactly." Jenna said.ladder.

Blake lowered the ladder. When he stood straight again, he found Cally before him, eyes flaming.

"What has got into you? Just because this stranger thinks he recognises his voice, you are prepared to believe the worst of Avon. He has never let us down. He could have left us to rot on Horizon."

"True," Blake conceded. That episode was not something he liked to be reminded of, his stubborness having got them into the mess. Blake had really expected Avon to abandon them then, a surmise shared by the others.

"He took his time, " Jenna pointed out acidly.

"He needed to gather information first, it would have been stupid to rush down and get caught like us," Cally retaliated. "With those pursuits ships advancing, he had every reason to take _Liberator _and run. Yet he stayed and risked his life to save us."

"Once a Federation brute, always a Federation brute," Kentor said. "He is their spy, planted on you to keep track of your movements!"

Blake shook his head. "Impossible. There;s no way they could have foreseen our escape - or that we would get hold of Liberator."

"But Avon could have sold us out now," Jenna said. "Suppose he contacted the Federation and offered them the ship and us for a reward and full pardon? It would explain his sudden desire to go visiting that Federation base on Fosforon. An ideal place to lay a trap."

"We need that crystal," Caly pointed out furiously.

"And he volunteered to get it," sneered Jenna. "That should make even Vila suspicious. Why don't you face to the facts, Cally? He'll sell us all for the right profit. Or do you think hopping into bed with him will make you exempt?"

Shouting down Cally's protest, she continued: "I could never come up with a motive for him to rescue us on Horizon. But if he'd left us there, the reward for our capture would have gone to that governor. This way he can pocket it himself."

"While giving up the wealth on board Liberator?" Cally asked.

Jenna adapted her argument: "Then they must have agreed to let him keep Liberator. They could even plan to keep our capture secret and let him use _Liberator _to contact, betray and destroy rebel bases..."

Blake had gone pale, envisaging the carnage Avon could wreck on the resistance organizations in that way. Doggedly, he shook his head. Cally was right. Avon had never let them down - yet. But who knew what went on behind that inscrutable face? For a man who tried to swindle millions out of the Federation bank the reward for their capture must be tempting...

His thoughts were interrupted by his communicator.

"Blake!" Avon's voice was tense, delivering his message without pause for breath: "Those ships will have us on their detectors within five minutes. I am not in the mood for last minute heroics. Request teleport now or you can stay down there!"

Looking at the others, Blake said: "We'll talk with him, give him a chance to explain things." Not waiting for their reply, he instructed Vila: "Bring us up."

As soon as they materialized in _Liberator's_ teleport bay, Blake spoke into the wall communicator: "Get us out of here, Avon!"

Jenna was already running to the flight deck, closely followed by Vila. Cally stayed, watching Kentor. If he had something more to say to poison their minds against Avon, she wanted to hear it.

Holding out his hand for the teleport bracelet, Blake told his guest: "Cally will bring you to the medical unit."

"No need," Kentor assured him brusquely. "I'm fine now." He looked around him, taking in the place with obvious pleasure. "This looks every bit as impressive as Avalon said. I'll be feeling quite at home here..."

Cally stiffened. So Avon was right: Blake _had_ recruited Kentor behind their backs.

"You can show me my quartes later," Kentor continued. "After I've taken a look at those legendary computers. But first we'll have to deal with that Federation spy."

"You have no cause to call him that," Cally said furiously. "We don't even know of he is the same man who arrested you."

"We'd better find out." Blake gestured to the others to follow him.

  
On the flight deck the main screen displayed the Federation ships rapidly dwindling in size while _Liberator _speeded away from them. Jenna and Vila, sitting at their usual positions, looked up when the others entered. Avon was at the front console checking the state of the energy banks, a task which seemed to absorb him totally.

"Avon," Blake called. "Meet an old acquaintance: Romin Kentor."

Haughtily, Avon turned his gaze their way. "I have never met..."

"It's him!" Kentor hissed. "The same piece of Federation filth!"

A chill seemed to fall over the flight deck while Avon locked gazes with Kentor. To Blake the ﬂare of antagonism between them was almost tangible.

Avon smiled nastily. "So. you've got yourself a new identity. A sensible move. Ratgir Karramel isn't a name to inspire the masses and motivate the rabble to wade in their own blood for freedom, is it?"

Kentor cast him a look of pure hatred. "I see you got rid of the eye patch."

"How perceptively observant you are."

Kentor clenched his fists. "I hope the wound was painful!"

It is not easy to look down on someone who is taller; Kerr Avon managed it effortlessly. "I presume you are a bad loser?"

Blake stepped between them. "Enough!"

Before he could say more, Zen announced: "Federation ships are out of sensor range. Decision on direction is now necessary. Please state course and speed."

"Yes, Blake," Avon drawled. "Ask your guest where he wants to be dropped off."

Blake stiffened, seeing the goading but unable to stop Kentor reacting.

"I am staying. Blake has invited me to join him."

"What?" Jenna eyes ﬂared daggers at Blake.

Avon ﬂashed Cally a triumphant smile.

"Could liven things up a bit," Vila commented, wriggling into a more comfortable position at his console. "And with those two at each other's throat I doubt we'll have time for dangerous missions!"

Kentor regarded him as if he saw something unsavoury. "That won't happen." He turned to Avon. "You are going to leave. I am not prepared to share this ship with a traitor!"

Avon treated him to an icily superior smile. "Not only a bad loser, but a manipulator as well." He turned his back to his accuser in his most insulting manner. "I think we should congratulate Blake on his recruitment ability."

"Please state course and speed," Zen repeated.

"Head for the nearest place where we can hide while recharging the energy banks," Avon instructed, adding to Blake: "Your detour to Amira at top speed followed by our ﬂight from those Federation ships has brought us dangerously low on power."

Feeling drained of energy himself, Blake rubbed his neck. "All right. Execute the instruction, Zen."

"Confirmed."

"Right," Blake said with desperate brightness. "A welcome drink first, I think. Vila, fetch a ﬂask of wine."

The thief sped away without his usual 'Why me?' complaint.

"Before we start the fraternisation," Jenna said coldly, "I think Avon has some explaining to do."

Turning his face her way, he raised his eyebrows; one went up further than the other. "Do I?"

"Well," Blake said mildly, loath to embark on the real issue. "for one thing, you never told us about the eye patch."

"A temporary inconvenience. Not worth mentioning."

Jenna snorted. "Like being a member of Central Security?"

Avon's voice took on a sharp edge. "I never worked for Central Security. Occasionally, I was requested to assist them with their enquiries..." He smiled sardonically at that ambiguous phrase. "One of those occasions was the investigation into that petty fraud scheme of our prospective crew member."

Kentor emitted a hiss of fury.

Blake laid a hand on his shoulder, whispering in his ear: "I know the feeling of wanting to wring Avon's neck. You'll have to get used to it." Loudly, he added: "Our aim is to destroy the Federation. We should direct our energies on that."

He was prevented from further admonishments by the return of Vila, who was balancing a tray with two ﬂasks of wine and six glasses on it. "Have I missed something?"

Blake walked over to the recreational area of the ﬂight deck. "Let's all sit down here. Pour the wine, Vila."

"Why me?"

Predictably, Avon could not resist such an open goal. "Well, you are our expert on spirits, aren't you?"

  
Seating themselves on the couches, Liberator' s crew partook in Blake's toast to Kentor — more out of thirst than from any feelings of welcome.

Jenna put her glass decisively on the table. "You'll have to tell us more about your association with those scum from Central Security, Avon."

"Yes, and about that eye patch," Vila backed her up, grinning. "I always knew you had _something_ in common with Travis."

Avon treated him to one of his disparaging stares. But he could not totally hide the brief ﬂicker of amusement in his eyes.

"Why not set our minds at rest? Blake suggested.

//Please, Avon,// Cally telepathed.

He had already decided that indulging them would be the most sensible course of action. Not that he cared a damn about what the others thought of him, but he was not going to let Kentor get away with undermining his position.

Slowly sipping from his wine, Avon feigned mulling things over, then smiled coldly. "Why not?"

Pretending not to notice Blake's silent breath of relief, he drained his glass. "After the fiasco of the Aquatar Project..."

"A secret government research into matter transmission," Blake explained to Kentor.

Casting him an annoyed glance for the interruption, Avon went on: "I was assigned to work at the Federation's Cipher Centre. The post of assistant computer technician was beneath my abilities _and_ badly paid - the consequences of being involved in a failure. To make things worse, my superior had wanted my job for his son. Out of pure spite he set out to make things difficult for me..."

"Must have been a new experience for you." Jenna said. "finding yourself on the receiving end of nastiness."

Unruffled, Avon continued: "I began to contemplate means of boosting my meagre salary. Unfortunately, the man from Financial Administration I approached decided on a scheme of his own and got caught."

Avon's fingers turned white from the force with which they gripped his empty glass. That idiot Keiller! "During his interrogation he blurted out my name. With the result that l was arrested too."

He held out his glass for Vila to refill. "It was his word against mine and l was able to convince the investigators of my innocence. He came off lightly, too: during his trial he behaved like such a dithering idiot that the arbiter refused to take the case seriously."

"Stupidity rather than malicious intent." Vila said, while pouring out the wine. That defence had worked for him too, sometimes.

Avon nodded. "My next chance occurred when a friend from my student days came to work at the Centre." Tynus, now the base commander at Fosforon, had been glad to see him then. Avon doubted if that would be the case this time. "We set up a profitable scheme, with him stealing the crystals needed for the cipher machines from the storeroom and me adapting the computer stock-files. All went well until the store manager got suspicious and alerted my superior."

  
"You got arrested again." Cally said miserably, shocked to hear him so casually — shamelessly — talk about his crimes. She knew of his failed bank-fraud, of course. but had always considered that an isolated incident.

As if sensing her disapproval, Avon gave her a deﬁant smile. "Yes, they hauled me in for interrogation. I kept my mouth shut, even when they started beating me."

Cally reached out to Avon's aura. Although not able to read people's minds, she had become tuned to his feelings. Now she was surprised to ﬁnd no distress in him about reliving his ordeal. She knew that somewhere deep inside him Avon had hidden a memory too painful to live with. Not this one, though. The only feelings she could pick up were annoyance about being forced into this revelation and apprehension about evoking their compassion. Pity was the last thing this man, who had never learned to deal with his emotions, could cope with.

"It was apparent that I could not have done it on my own. So when they failed to beat the name of an associate out of me, they deduced I had to be innocent." Avon's face twitched into a cynical grimace. "They could not imagine a pampered Alpha being able to hold out under torture. At that point my superior eagerness to see me arrested began to work against him. I managed to convince the investigators that the accusation has been nothing more than a crude attempt to remove me from the post he wanted for his son. In end they released me without charges "

"But you were guilty." Kentor pointed out. "You're a criminal!"

Vila grinned at him. "Oh, we're all criminals here-"

Cally projected her outrage at him.

"Well, almost all." he amended quickly.

"Indeed." Avon agreed sweetly, "In that respect we can say that Blake shows consistency in his recruitment."

"I am no criminal!" Kentor spat. "What I did was to help the resistance, not for personal gain."

"I see." Avon purred. "Not only a criminal but a fool as well!"

Trembling with fury, Kentor confronted Blake. "I have not come here to be insulted!"

"Just tell us where to drop you off." Avon invited him.

//Avon. be careful,// Cally warned.

Blake laid a conciliatory hand on Kentor's shoulder. "Let Avon get on with his story."

"Yes," Jenna cut in. "We are still waiting for your explanation about helping Central Security, Avon!"

"I was coming to that. My friend had never fallen under suspicion so all ended well. We decided to abandon our scheme for a while. But three days later I was arrested again, this time for treason."

"What?" Cally exclaimed in chorus with the others. "Yes, it does stretch the imagination, doesn't it? They accused me of attempting to sell information about the cipher machines to the rebels and in their book that amounts to treason." Avon's face was aloof, his voice devoid of emotion. "This time they employed one of Security's professional interrogators. He showed me a laser probe. The ideal tool, he said, for burning out someone's eyes. They wouldn't let him use it on ordinary criminals, but enemies of the state were not expected to live anyway. For traitors like me the choice was between a quick death after confession or a slow one during..."

He fell silent, letting them make their own inference.

Cally broke the shocked silence. "You did not confess quickly enough."

  
Avon laughed scornfully. "They did not give me a chance to confess! The thug just put the probe to my eye. It was only after they had brought me round that he invited me to confess before he would burn out my other eye."

He let his gaze glide over his companions in silent but unmistakable warning. They knew better than to express any sign of sympathy.

"Charming fellows, those chaps from Central Security," Vila commented airily. "You must have had real pleasure in advising them where to stick their probes."

Avon gave him a brief, appreciating smile. "The irony was that this time I was innocent."

"So what did you do?" Jenna asked.

"Intimidate them. I reeled off a list of inﬂuential relatives — my family's affiliated with half the High Council members."

Jenna whistled. Kentor snorted. Blake looked stunned, Cally shocked, Vila not surprised at all.

Avon regarded their reactions with perverse satisfaction.

"When I had them duly impressed," he continued, "I stated my innocence and offered to find the real culprit for them. I also volunteered to sign a statement, that my injury had been an accident. They accepted eagerly. After all, Federation investigators are not concerned with the guilt or innocence of their suspects; they just want the credit for solving crimes."

"And you solved this one for them," Jenna guessed.

"Yes, it was easy. There was only one person who could have produced the so called evidence against me: my superior, who saw a chance to get rid of me, reasoning that after two accusations a third would be readily believed." Avon's lips parted in a sneer. "Confronted with the threat of the laser probe _he_ confessed at once. So I was exonerated again. But by now it had become routine..."

While the others looked blank Vila grinned. "Whenever something's ﬁshy going on with computers, haul in Kerr Avon! If he's not behind it, he can find out who is."

"A crude but accurate surmise." Avon's gaze encompassed the others. "That is how I became involved in Central Security's investigations: I had to solve their cases in order to prove my own innocence. But I was never part of their organisation."

"And you want us to believe that?" demanded Kentor.

Avon gave another successful demonstration of looking down on a taller man. "I do not care at all whether you believe me or not. I was merely satisfying the curiosity of my—" he paused to ﬁnd the right word, "associates."

"That probe must have done considerable damage," Blake said, his voice carefully neutral.

Avon shrugged: "I was lucky; it burnt the tissue but the optic nerves were preserved."

Cally said: "The surgeon who restored your face must have done a splendid job."

Avon's smile was turned inwards, as if reacting to a private joke. "He was the best in his field."

Jenna's suspicions were still not totally laid to rest. "How did you get permission for the plastic surgery? And who paid the bill? I can't imagine Central Security being accommodating to that extent, especially after you signing a statement exonerating them."

"They weren't. Actually, that eye patch was the least of my worries. It was only when I decided to get out with enough money to set me up for life that the need for a somewhat less conspicuous appearance arose. Then I simply hacked into the computer of the Federation's top hospital and got myself an appointment. They are probably still trying to ﬁgure out where to send the bill."

All of his audience except for Kentor broke out in laughter.

  
"Well." Blake said with relief, "I think we can accept Avon's explanation about his connection with Central Security." Ignoring the man's murmured, "How _gracious_ of you!" he went on: "Kentor, it seems that you owe him an apology." Seeing the rebel's mulish expression, he quickly added: "One of these days."

Jenna rose, her still damp clothes clinging to her body. "I'm going to get into something dry. You should change too, Blake."

"And it's past our meal time." Vila reminded them while emptying the last of the wine into his glass. "My stomach's rumbling."

Avon leaned over, snatching the glass from his hand. "More likely sloshing." He raised the glass in a mock salute and drained it.

Sharing a good meal could do wonders for the tempers aboard Liberator, Blake knew from experience. Kentor must be hungry too, he realised belatedly.

"All right, we're all in need of a tasty meal." He rose, turning to his guest: "While that is prepared you'd better let Cally give you a medical check up."

"All right," she said. "Come on."

They left the ﬂight deck. Jenna had already gone to her cabin. On the couch, Vila closed his eyes for a quick nap.

Blake walked over to Zen's fascia.

Avon put his glass on the tray. He rose gracefully. "And who is going to prepare that tasty meal?"

Blake returned his gaze. "You _are_ our best cook."

Avon began to walk towards him. "Are you afraid that your recruit will refuse to stay after sampling your cooking?"

"Are you in the mood to sample it?"

"Not really." Avon halted in front of Blake. "Are culinary skills on the list of requirements for our recruit which you presented to Avalon?"

"No."

"But you insisted on computer expertise." Seeing where the discussion would lead, Blake said evenly: "I asked for someone dedicated to bringing down the Federation. That he knows about computers is a happy coincidence."

Avon took that statement with open scepticism. "And no thoughts of letting him take my place?"

"No, I want you to work together." Blake laid a friendly hand on Avon's shoulder. "Kentor can lighten your workload. _Liberator's_ systems are too much for one man to maintain."

Avon stepped out of his grip. "I seem to have managed it quite well."

"But you work too hard." Blake's voice became smooth with persuasion: "Kentor can be a valuable assistant to you."

"You overrate his usefulness. Remember that he failed in the one clever thing he tried to do with computers."

"So did you."

"True. But at least I don't sulk about it, venting my frustration on the man who was clever enough to catch me."

"You are part of a painful occurrence in his past." Blake said mildly. "He was obviously shocked to be confronted with it..."

"He's a bad loser," Avon spat. "He's vengeful, inﬂexible, jumps to conclusions, can't face his errors... Such a man is dangerous!"

"Give him a chance," Blake pleaded.

  
Avon gave him a hard stare. No way was he going to suffer the permanent company of Kentor, but maybe he could leave it to the man to make himself unwelcome.

"All right, Blake. One chance!"

Turning on his heels. Avon strode to the sleeping ﬁgure on the couch. "Come on, Vila. Let's get started on that meal."

"Oh no, you don't need me." Jumping up with unexpected swiftness, Vila tried to run past Avon. "You know I can't cook."

Avon stepped smoothly in to block his escape route.

"I'll only be in your way," Vila insisted.

Taking him by the sleeve of his plain brown jacket, Avon gave him a level stare. Protection carried a price, a fact Vila ought to have learned by now.

"Don't worry," he said, leading Vila to the corridor. "I'll ﬁnd you something useful to do."

  
Left alone on the ﬂight deck, Blake smiled grimly. So now they knew Avon's reason for staying. Blake had always suspected that the man was not half as unwilling to ﬁght the Federation as he pretended. Avon could have left - or ditched Blake and taken over the ship - at any time. Blake did not harbour the illusion that Avon was staying because of his persuasive powers. Having been at the receiving end of its brutality might well have made even someone as detached and cynical as Avon decide that to destroy the Federation was a worthwhile cause.

Blake was still haunted by the recollection of Security's cruel administrations - vague fragments of memory, hazily emerging from the amnesia of his brainwashing - counterpointed by Vargas's more recent attentions. He could empathise strongly with what Avon must have undergone. Avon's faculty for clear thinking under severe pain would have stood him in good stead; physical pain was something Avon knew how to deal with.

Falling down on the centre couch, Blake allowed himself to relax. His gamble appeared to have paid off. The crew seemed prepared to accept Kentor. A pity the man had shown himself so hostile towards Avon. But he would get over it. And Avon would relent, he always respected people who stood up to him. lt would all work out for the best.

  
In _Liberator's_ spacious pantry. Avon let go of Vila's sleeve. "While Kentor's in the medical unit for that check up, I want you to ﬁx the lock to his cabin door so that it can't be opened from the inside."

Vila's mouth fell open. "Eh?"

Avon took a large bowl from a rack. "Don't tell me you can't do it. Someone who can pick locks must be able to adapt them."

"Oh, I can do it." Vila said, professional pride overriding laziness. "But why?"

"I don't want him wandering off to explore _Liberator _on his own." Avon began to fill the bowl with ﬁbre sticks and protein chunks. "And I expressly don't want him waiting for me round some corner with a gun."

Vila's gaze idly followed Avon pouring water into the bowl and placing it in the microwave. "You think he'd do that?"

Avon set the timer and switched the microwave on. "Yes. He seems to blame me for the failure of his precious fraud scheme."

"Was it a very stupid attempt?" Vila asked, feeling a sudden interest. "No. It was bloody brilliant! In fact, if he hadn't tried to rush things, he would have got away with it."

In a ﬂash of insight, Vila exclaimed: "It was what gave you the idea for your own fraud."

Avon's eyebrows went up in mock surprise. "So somewhere in that brain of yours dwells a morsel of intelligence."

"You nicked his scheme" Vila clariﬁed.

  
"I adapted it." For a moment Avon felt the familiar stab of frustration. He had been careful to avoid all Kentor's mistakes. It should have worked!

Decisively, he killed the memory. It was no use dwelling on the past.

"Go, Vila! You have about twenty minutes before Cally will be finished with him."

"Right." Vila reached for the door opening mechanism on the wall, then lowered his hand. "How do we know which cabin he'll have?"

Avon raised his eyes to the ceiling in ostentatious despair. "Try to _use_ that morsel of intelligence!"

Vila began to apply logic: "Gan's cabin's not yet been cleared out..."

A task none of them had felt eager to take on.

Avon nodded. "Keep in mind that Blake wants to enlist this Kentor very much..."

"The guest cabin." Vila said. "The one with the private bathroom attached."

"Exactly." Avon bared his teeth in a false smile. "With those facilities he will have no need for leaving his cabin, will he?"

  
When Vila had gone. Avon turned his thoughts back to the meal. There is only one thing you can do with tasteless ﬁbre sticks and protein chunks: drown them in a decent sauce. He had spent happy hours experimenting with the alien ingredients in _Liberator's_ food store until he had sorted everything out.

Passing his ﬁndings on had proved less successful. Distrustful of all things alien. Jenna never bothered, preferring the standard vitamin and protein solutions. Taste buds seemingly lacking in the Auronar genetic makeup, Cally was not interested in food. Vila was too lazy to try. Blake never seemed to be able to cast his thoughts away from his plans for long enough to get the mixture of ingredients right. Only Gan had been willing and adequate; his demise now left Avon as _Liberator's_ sole cook.

Measuring off the various ingredients, he congratulated himself on his dealing with the questions about his association with Central Security. It had been easy to satisfy his companions' curiosity. They might even think they now knew his reason for allowing Blake to engage him in his futile ﬁght for freedom.

Avon smiled grimly to himself, determined never to reveal his real reason: that every blow he let Blake deal the Federation was, in its way, a small revenge for Anna's suffering.

Resolutely, Avon fought down the pain that her memory brought him. One day he would go after the thug who had tortured her to death. But that could wait. First he had to get Blake off his back.

Gan's death should have given them cause for thought - a breathing space. Instead, Blake seemed more frantic, wanting to plough on without rest, as if he feared his time was running out. All Avon could do was try to steer him in the direction which would give the required result with the least risk. Getting hold of the decoder-crystal should not be too dangerous. With the cipher machine working again they should be able to work out the location of Central Control, the nerve centre of the Federation's power. Once Central Control was destroyed and Blake had settled on Earth to build his brave new world on the Federation's ashes, Avon would be free -and in possession of Liberator.

The others could leave or stay. Although perfectly happy on his own, by now Avon had grown used to their company. He respected Jenna — he'd always had a regard for strong, independent women. Vila was amusing, and Avon valued his ability to open the most complicated locks. Cally had fascinated him from the moment he had set eyes on her in that rosy mist on Saurian Major. Their recreational relationship provided him physical satisfaction without emotional involvement.

Avon told himself that the Auron meant nothing to him. Well, maybe she did stir more than just his loins, but even so he could never love her, not after Anna. He had made that clear to her, and been surprised when she had accepted, stating her own terms: that he accepted her allegiance to Blake. In a way Cally was like Anna, intelligent and practical.

And when her company, or that of the others. became too much, he could always take refuge in his cabin. Lock the door and be blissfully alone. For him, hell had been those long months on the prison ship, without any privacy...

The microwave beeped. Avon took out the bowl, stirred in the sauce, put the bowl back in and reset the timer. While waiting for the heating process to finish, he leaned contentedly against the dishwasher.

Space life suited him. Avon knew he could spend the rest of his life aboard _Liberator _without ever wanting to set foot again on a planet. Blake, on the other hand, seemed to continually feel the need for solid ground under his feet and a ﬁerce wind blowing through his hair. Avon sometimes suspected that all those missions to blow up Federation centres were just excuses for Blake to get away from _Liberator _for a while. Idly, he mused that it might well have been his restriction to the Dome City which had first triggered Blake's inborn streak of rebellion.

  
Meals aboard _Liberator _were always informal affairs, taken on the ﬂight deck to include the crew member on watch duty. A folding table placed between the couches held the food and jugs with fruit juice (made from concentrates dissolved in water) in various garish colours.

On Blake's invitation, Kentor sat down next to him on the central couch. Jenna took the seat nearest to Blake on the couch to his right. Cally and Avon shared the left couch, which left the place next to Jenna for Vila.

The savoury smell from the golden-yellow sauce covering the fibre and protein mass in the large bowl filled the air. Dishing up, Kentor felt his mouth water. After Amira's tasteless boiled roots and tough roasted rodents, he would have welcomed even a plain protein bar. This was a real treat.

He was really going to enjoy it here! The only thing marring his complacency — the presence of the man who had humiliated him — he would deal with in due time. He thought of the gun, smuggled aboard in his satchel and now safely hidden in his cabin.

  
They spoke little during the meal, enjoying the food. Finishing first as usual, Cally sat back to contemplate the others. Kentor was wolfing down his food with obvious relish. Jenna always made every mouthful last long while Blake never seemed to notice what he ate. Avon was chewing with the precise dedication he brought to all his sodas and Vila stuffed the food into his mouth as if expecting it to be his last meal.

Kentor laid down his spoon with a sigh of contentment.

"That was really good," he told Jenna. "I hope your cookery is properly appreciated here."

Vila began to laugh. "Jenna can't cook like that... Ouch!"

Cally smiled to herself; Jenna's boots had pointed toes...

"No?" Kentor turned to Cally. "Then you made this? I would not have expected an alien to grasp the principle of Terran cooking. You are talented indeed, to prepare something so quickly..."

Cally frowned in confusion. "Why do you think so?"

"Well, you've had but little time after ﬁnishing that medical check."

"I mean," she said, wondering if he was making fun of her, "why do you think I made this meal?"

Kentor looked blank. He seemed oblivious to the growing imitation in Jenna, something Cally could sense clearly.

"Well, you're the only other woman present, aren't you?" Kentor said.

"What has that got to do with cooking?" Cally asked.

  
Kentor stared at Cally. Was the alien a half-wit?

"Our guest seems to have a penchant for history, Cally" Avon said. "In ancient Earth societies things like cooking and washing and cleaning were deemed women's job."

"Beneath men's dignity," Jenna added acidly. "A view still held by too many men!"

"Here we all take turns in those chores," Cally informed Kentor.

Vila gloated. "You'll have to do your share, Kentor!"

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. "I have not joined the most legendary resistance group to play kitchen maid! I'm a computer specialist, not a servant."

"All tasks are allocated fairly," Blake told him. "If you want to be part of my crew you are expected to do your share like the rest of us."

Kentor cast him a murderous look. "Well, just remember that I can't cook."

"Avon can teach you," Vila suggested. The thought made him giggle.

Avon spooned up the last sauce from his plate. "That would seem as useless as trying to teach you, Vila."

Kentor's mind reached the implication. He turned sideways to confront his host. "You mean you allow _him_ to cook?"

Vila grinned. "You've just sampled one of Avon's better attempts."

With rising horror Kentor stared down at his empty plate. "He could have poisoned you all! He could have poisoned _me_!"

  
"A tempting thought." Avon muttered.

"Don't make a fool of yourself, Kentor!" Blake snapped.

"If you can't bring yourself to trust Avon, you'd better leave." Cally advised him.

Jenna nodded. "At least _he_ does his share efﬁciently and without fuss!"

"My one redeeming trait?" Avon asked softly.

"Yes." Jenna hissed. "And don't say it — I _know_ it's pure self sufﬁciency!"

Avon leaned back in his seat, thoroughly enjoying himself. He'd been right, it could be left to Kentor to make himself impossible...

"Information." Zen announced. "Detectors are registering Federation craft following Liberator."

  
The crew jumped up and hurried to their positions. "Put them on the screen." Jenna and Blake instructed in chorus.

All heads turned to _Liberator's_ main screen. Initially the three tiny dots were indistinguishable from the surrounding stars, then their movement and formation gave them away.

"Identify," Avon ordered.

"Transmissions indicate that they are the same ships _Liberator _encountered above Amira.

"That can't be true," Jenna exclaimed.

"I thought we'd lost them," Vila said.

"We _should_ have lost them!" A cold suspicion rose in Avon.

"They must be heading in the same direction by coincidence," Blake said.

"Improbable." Avon hurried to Cally's position and activated a communication's channel.

Cally stared at the ﬂashing light. "A homing device. It must be very near."

"It is on this ship." Avon pointed a ﬁnger at Kentor, who was still seated on his couch. "He is leading them to us!"

"So you are a Federation spy!" Jenna advanced on Kentor. The others followed.

Seemingly from nowhere, Avon produced a small gun. He trained it on Kentor. "Where is that tracer?"

"I'm not a spy!" Kentor shrieked. "You are mistaken."

"Convince us!" Jenna invited him. "I needed to lure those ships away from Amira. We can't risk them ﬁnding the training base..."

"I should have thought of that," Blake said.

Jenna spat at Kentor: "So you decided to activate your tracer again and lure them to us."

"He can't be that much of an idiot." Vila said.

Avon smiled. "It seems there are worse cases than you, difficult to believe as that is."

"You can outrun them." Kentor said. "_Liberator's_ the fastest ship in the galaxy."

"Not when she's low on power." Cally snapped.

"Where is the tracer?" Avon repeated.

Kentor's hand went to his hip pocket. "Here."

"Get it out. Careful!" Avon warned.

Very slowly. Kentor obeyed.

"Hand it over." Avon's gun did not waver. "Take it. Cally."

Taking care not to come into his line of fire, Cally accepted the transmitter.

"Turn it off," Jenna said.

"No, wait!" Blake held up his hand. "Then they will know we've found it. We do not want to alarm them - yet."

Without taking his gaze away from Kentor, Avon addressed the computer: "Zen, how long before they will have us in striking range?"

"Twenty point two minutes."

"That gives us some time," Cally said.

"What do we do?"Jenna asked.

"Let's get out of here," Vila suggested.

"We can't," Avon said. "We haven't enough power to run."

Refusing to give in to the rising feeling of despair, Blake asked Avon: "Have we enough power to fire the neutron blasters?"

Without lowering his gun, Avon walked over to the forward console to make the necessary calculations. "If we keep the detector shield up, we'll have just enough power to manoeuvre the ship into position and ﬁre three shots. But we can't afford to use the force wall."

"No need for that if we can fire before they know we're on to them." Blake kept his voice confident, knowing that he could not afford to show his apprehension. "Jenna, bring the ship into firing position. Then shut down the drive to save power. Zen, clear the neutron blasters for firing. Bring them in line for taking out our pursuers. Fire the moment they are within range. One shot for each, you can't afford to miss."

"Confirmed," Zen droned.

Jenna took the craft on manual. They all held on to something while the ship changed course.

Switching off the drive, Jenna asked: "Zen, how long before we're in firing range?"

"Twelve point three minutes."

Vila groaned. "These are going to be the longest twelve minutes of my life!"

"Make the most of them," Avon advised him. "They may well be your last."

Vila shot him a nervous look. "Don't be so damned discouraging!"

"Shut up!" Jenna told them both.

Blake turned to Cally: "Will they be able to deduce from the signal that we've stopped?"

She shook her head. "Not yet — not at this range."

"Then we have one advantage: they don't know we're onto them."

"Be grateful for small mercies," Avon mumbled sarcastically.

"You realise that we'll have no power left for the drive?" Jenna said. "Even if we manage to finish off those ships with only three shots, we'll be drifting helpless for the time needed to recharge."

"Which will be a minimum of forty-eight hours," supplied Avon.

"And the Federation will send more ships this way to investigate why they've lost contact with our pursuers." Cally said.

"We might be able to mislead them," Avon said. "Vila, fetch Orac!"

"You're intent on making me slave for you until the very end, aren't you?" But he hurried to obey.

Feeling too frustrated to stay at his position, Blake stepped down to the recreational area, where his recruit was sitting rigidly still under the threat of Avon's gun. "Why did you not tell us about reactivating your homing device?"

Kentor's pale eyes shone with stubbornness. "There was no need. It was a perfect occasion to show my initiative."

Blake felt like laughing - hysterically. "Your sort of initiative may well kill us all."

"It's not my fault, Blake, if your ship is not up to its reputation! Anyway, the cause is worth dying for."

Jenna stared at Kentor. "I don't believe my ears."

"Yes, it makes Blake's penchant for suicidal missions pale in comparison, doesn't it?" Even in the face of death, Avon could not resist jibing.

Vila returned, carrying the bad-tempered computer. He had already plugged in the activator. "There." He placed the machine on a couch. "The old bugger was not pleased by being disturbed."

"Too bad." Still aiming his gun at Kentor, Avon instructed: "Orac, monitor the transmissions from the craft following us. Register their code and frequency. When we've destroyed the ships, you will imitate their signal, pretending them to be on a course away from our position."

Blake felt his spirits lift just a fraction. "Good idea, Avon."

Orac did not agree: "I was not designed for such menial tasks."

"Do it!" Avon said.

Vila spoke up, radiating sudden inspiration. "Why don't we let Orac tap into their weapons system and make them self-destruct'?"

His crewmates exchanged exasperated looks.

Blake left it to Avon to explain: "Unfortunately, their weapons and ﬂight mechanisms are not equipped with Tariel cells. A fact I have endeavoured to point out to you before."

Vila's shoulders sagged. "Well, it was just an idea."

"Three minutes to strike range." Zen announced.

Blake returned to his position. "Battle stations!"

In silence, they watched the main screen. Their pursuers, now easily identifiable, seemed to advance upon the _Liberator _with singular determination.

The seconds ticked away slowly. Suddenly the dots exploded, three brilliant ﬂashes appearing as one to the human eye.

"Targets destroyed," Zen declared impassively.

_Liberator's_ crew let out a synchronised breath of relief.

Avon walked over to Orac. "Have you taken over their transmission?"

"Yes. I have chosen a pattern that will make it appear that they are veering off to the next sector."

"Good," Avon said. "It won't fool Space Command for ever but should suffice to make them search in the wrong place."

"You see," Kentor cut in brightly. "There was no need for panic. You should have more faith in your computers, Blake!"

"Do you want to borrow my gun?" Avon offered. "Or shall I shoot him for you?"

To his horror, Blake found himself almost tempted. Tiredly, he shook his head.

Switching off the homing device, Cally said: "We'll have to decide what to do with him."

"Dump him," Jenna suggested.

"From the nearest airlock," Vila said.

"You can't!" At last their mood seemed to penetrate Kentor's thick skull.

"We are not going to let him stay, Blake," Jenna warned.

"Now listen!" Ignoring Avon's gun, Kentor jumped up to address Blake. "You invited me. I have a right to a place on this ship."

"Blake did not ask for our consent," Jenna told him icily.

"Any right Blake's invitation may have given you, you have forfeited." Cally stood before Kentor, inadvertently blocking Avon's line of ﬁre. "First you try to poison our minds against Avon, and then you bring us into danger."

"You have no right to reproach me!" Kentor yelled. "An alien slut who throws herself at a Federation lackey..."

"Cally," Avon said with deadly calm, "will you step aside, please?" Turning and seeing the intent to kill on his face, she froze. "Don't, Avon. He is not worth the bullet."

"Oh, I think he is."

"No."

They locked gazes, embroiled in a silent battle of wills. The other looked in awe. The tension was almost tangible.

At last Avon shrugged. "As you wish. But I think you'll to regret it!"

Blake let go of his held breath. grateful for Cally's common sense and Avon's ability to give in without the perception of losing face.

"We will discuss the matter," he said.

"Privately," Jenna added.

"I will escort our guest to his cabin." Avon gestured with his gun to Kentor. "Lead the way!"

Fearing that the rebel might meet with an 'accident' on the way, Blake said: "I'll take him."

Avon smiled thinly. "Then I will escort you both."

When they had delivered Kentor to his cabin, Blake started to go back. Aware that Avon was not following him, he asked impatiently: "Coming?"

Avon turned away from his inspection of the door lock. "Yes."

He had put the gun away, Blake noticed, wondering idly where in his tight fitting clothes Avon found room to hide it. Blake had not seen the weapon before, Avon must have acquired it secretly during one of their raids. And did he always go about armed, or had he taken the gun with him for this special occasion? Blake feared he could not rule out the first possibility.

  
On the flight deck, the others had made themselves comfortable on the couches. Blake sat down there too. Avon remained standing.

"Well now," Avon drawled while he began to pace the area. "I was wondering about Avalon's aim in marooning a man of Kentor's talents on a back hole like Amira. Now we know."

Vila raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"He's a computer expert, isn't he? I imagine computers must be thin on the ground on that planet."

It was Jenna who caught his meaning: "You mean Avalon sent him as far away from her as she could?"

Avon nodded. "She must have seen his potential for taking his companions with him in glorious self destruction, and decided that a training base on a remote planet was the place where he was least likely to succeed." He leaned over the back of Blake's couch. "Did Avalon give you a reason for Kentor's presence there?"

"He was going to give them lectures on battle tactics, that sort of thing."

"Ah." Avon smiled. "Not the most profitable occupation for a computer expert, wouldn't you say? Surely he should have been deployed hacking into Federation computers, sabotaging missile systems, feeding false information into databanks? I'd say that Avalon usually knows how to make the most of her resources." He released the couch. "By the way, how did our recruit come to be wounded?" "

He fell from a ladder." Blake explained. Avon raised his eyebrows. "A loose rung?"

"No, the clamps had come undone."

"Both?" Avon whistled softly. "And there was no one around to help him?"

"The others had all gone on an exercise trip."

"Very neat. I take it they knew we would come to get him?"

Jenna said: "You think someone deliberately sabotaged that ladder?"

"It looks like it, doesn't it? A heartfelt farewell present. And no-one staying around to say goodbye. He must have made himself really popular."

"Finding yourself surpassed?" Jenna challenged.

Avon was impervious to insult. "Unarguably."

Vila's face took on an expression of gloom. "Then they won't want him back."

"Nor will Avalon," Avon said. "Blake's request must have been a godsend to her."

Cally frowned. "You mean she recommended Kentor simply to get rid of him?"

"Obviously." Again Avon addressed Blake: "I suppose she delivered a glowing reference?"

Getting no answer, Avon gave a short laugh. "Always be wary of glowing references. They usually mean that the provider is eager to get rid of the person praised."

"You must have had a plethora of glowing references,"Jenna murmured.

"Oh, come on," Vila said. "I can't believe that of Avalon."

"I can," Jenna told him.

Blake shook his head. "Avalon's been our guest. She would not have recommended Kentor if she thought he would bring us — or _Liberator _— into danger."

Avon shrugged. "She must have taken our measure and expected us to be able to deal with him."

"Which is what we should be doing," Cally reminded them.

"We are not going to let him stay," Jenna repeated.

Blake began to pace the ﬂight deck. "I invited him. I engaged him."

"Then sack him!"

"Jenna's right!" Avon grabbed Blake forcefully by the shoulder. "I've got enough putting up with _your_ idiocies. I'm not willing to put up with _his_!"

  
Their faces only a few inches apart, Blake held Avon's gaze calmly. "You can't deny his dedication. This action was brought on by thoughtless enthusiasm. He'll have learned his lesson now."

"I call his action plain stupidity," Avon countered. "But the terminology is irrelevant, both qualities can be equally lethal."

Abandoning his attempt to stare him down, Blake turned his head to plead with the others. "We should give him another chance."

"No." Avon snarled.

"We can't afford to let him stay." Cally said.

Blake gave her a hurt look. Immediately, he heard her voice in his head: //I am not turning against you. But this time Avon is right.//

"Kentor is implacable." she said aloud. "Even if he refrains from spontaneous actions behind our back, he'll be sowing discontent. He's still ﬁercely hostile to Avon."

"No more chances!" Avon was still holding Blake's shoulder.

"Avon's right, Blake." Jenna said, meeting his 'You too?' glance squarely.

"We've got to get rid of him!" For once even Vila sounded determined.

Blake sighed, recognising defeat. "All right."

Avon let go of Blake's shoulder. He took a few steps backwards and leaned against the wall with deliberate nonchalance.

Blake plumped down on a couch. "But we'll have to find Kentor a place somewhere."

"Just dump him on the nearest rebel base." Jenna suggested.

"No," Cally said. "We can't do that to an unsuspecting ally."

Vila was in a vindictive mood: "Let's push him through the airlock."

"No!" Blake's outrage made Avon smile. How he enjoyed to see them wrangle! And he'd already found the solution for their problem. He wasn't going to volunteer it, though. They would have to ask him — nicely.

"Jenna's right," Blake said. "We have to find a place for him in one of the resistance groups."

"And warn them," Cally added.

"If you do that no-one will take him," Jenna predicted.

"Well, we can't keep him hanging around here." Vila's gaze fell on Avon. "You got any ideas?"

"Well now..." He treated them to a smug smile. "I can think of the ideal place to dump him. A place where he can be allowed to bring death upon his companions to his heart's desire."

He sat down with the air of having finished his say.

His studied obtrusiveness had the desired effect. "Stop playing games, Avon," Blake snapped. "if you have a solution, let's hear it'."

"Ah so good of you to _ask_!" A lifetime of annoying everyone around him had given Avon a perfect sense for how far he could go. He waited a few seconds longer, savouring them to the full, then suggested: "Take Kentor to Space City. Let him join the Terra Nostra."

Vila grinned. "The perfect solution!" His face fell. "Kentor will never agree, though. The Terra Nostra are in the president's pocket."

"That is a well-kept secret," Avon reminded him.

"He'll know, though, what every one knows." Blake said. "The Terra Nostra is a criminal organisation — a network for murder, extortion and drug pushing."

Avon shrugged. "Therefore, we must not tell him who they are. Make him believe he is joining a rebel organisation."

"Now that's an idea!" Hope ﬂared up in Vila again. But despair was its eternal companion. "You'll never get him to believe it."

"It could work," Jenna said.

Avon's smile revealed his large teeth. "I'm sure Jenna knows some suitable member of the Terra Nostra to introduce him to."

"I do," she confirmed.

"Cally?" Avon asked.

He looked hot, Vila noticed. Well, he shouldn't dress for a polar expedition aboard Liberator! Surely that thick, high collared sweater was much too warm under such a heavy tunic...

Cally wavered. "If it could ruin them..."

"Imagine the havoc he could wreak," Avon said. "They are already weakened by the halt of their shadow supply. Kentor's heroic bungling might well be their ﬁnal ruin."

"It could work," Jenna repeated.

"Only if you can fool Kentor into believing that he is joining a rebel organisation," Vila said.

"He'll take the word of the Great Blake on that, wouldn't you say?" Avon began to unzip his tunic. "Don't pretend you have moral objections to such a ploy, Blake!"

"No." Blake made up his mind. "All right, it seems to be our best option."

"A wise decision." Avon tossed his tunic onto a couch and went to check the recharging and Orac's transmissions.

"Next time you want to recruit someone," Jenna warned Blake, "don't do it behind our backs!"

"We're not ready for it yet," Cally said. "So soon after Gan's death."

"And when we are, try to find someone useful," Vila added.

Jenna nodded. "Like a doctor."

"A woman." Vila said. "Preferably one with good legs."

Avon came gracefully walking back to them.

"Talking about good legs..." Jenna commented softly. Avon's trousers were skin-tight all the way up. Unfortunately, his black sweater was a bit on the short side.

Vila grinned mischievously. "Do you think he stuffed a pair of -"

"Vila!" Cally's protest was drowned out by the others' roaring laughter.

"The recharging is underway," Avon reported, pointedly ignoring the merriment. "In a couple of hours we'll have some manoeuvring power. Orac is still imitating our late pursuers' transmissions."

"Good." Blake manfully forced himself not to look at the offending region. "Thank you."

"Well, aren't you going to impart our decision to your recruit?" Avon asked. "No need to keep him in suspense."

"Better get it over with." Blake agreed. He rose, sighing softly. This had been a hard lesson. Next time he would not take anyone's word about a suitable recruit. It was clear he would have to interview each candidate himself. "I'll fetch him."

  
Kentor paced his cabin furiously. How dare they lock him up? How dare they reject him! They should be grateful for his willingness to join them. After all, they were no more than a group of failed criminals. As for the legendary Blake — he seemed not the man Kentor had expected. Surely a man of his stature should be able to maintain discipline?

It was the work of that Federation brute and his alien slut! They were systematically undermining Blake's authority. But Kentor was not going to let them get away with it!

His hand went to the pocket of his jacket. The feel of the gun was satisfying. Let them try to oust him!

  
A few minutes later Kentor found himself sitting on a now familiar couch amidst _Liberator's_ crew. Only Avon had not joined them, he was standing behind the couches, staring watchfully at him.

Kentor was aware of Jenna's and Vila's lingering amusement. So they had been making fun of him! In no mood for pacification he listened to Blake awkwardly explaining their decision.

"You want to ditch me!"

Blake held up his hand in a placatory gesture. "I know it must seem like that to you. But consider the advantages..."

Kentor snorted.

Our scope is limited." Blake plodded on. "Think of the resources of a truly interplanetary network..."

"Don't think you can manipulate me!" Kentor hissed.

"Don't be stupid!" Avon told him. "Your talents are wasted in a small group like ours. Blake is giving you the chance to employ them where they can most harm the Federation."

Walking round the couches, he came into full new. Vila began to giggle uncontrollably.

Kentor jumped up. "I'll teach you to laugh at me." He drew his gun, pulled Cally from her seat and slammed the weapon against her cheek. "Hands up, all of you! Don't try anything or she dies!"

  
They obeyed.

"What do you hope to achieve?" Blake asked.

"You've no chance in the world of taking over Liberator,"Jenna pointed out.

"I know that." Kentor said. "You've made abundantly clear I am not welcome here. But I'm not departing empty-handed. As compensation for your breach of contract I'll take that super computer of yours - Orac."

Avon took a step forward. "No!"

"Stand still," Kentor warned.

//Avon, distract him!// Cally telepathed.

He looked Kentor up and down with studied contempt. "So, you are not only a bad loser and a manipulator, but a coward as well! Hiding behind a woman. But you underestimate our women - show him, Jenna!"

Inevitably, Kentor's attention shifted to the pilot. Cally tore herself from his grip. Blake lunged himself forward. Avon was quicker. His blow sent the rebel sprawling backwards over the couch. Kentor landed head ﬁrst on the deck and lay still.

  
Witnessing the display of raw emotion, by someone who consistently denied being encumbered with that sentiment, left Blake paralysed for a moment. Avon rubbed his hand, his mask of lofty indifference back in place. "You'd better secure him, while he's out cold. And I suggest we keep him under restraint until we're ready to drop him."

"I suggest we drop him right now," Jenna said.

"No!" Blake was adamant.

Cally backed him: "That would be murder!"

"Well, he was prepared to kill you, wasn't he?" Vila said.

Blake cast him a furious glance. How he missed Gan, he could almost hear the giant's calm voice: "That would make us as bad as him!"

He stared hard who now held the deciding vote. Silently, he willed Avon to back him up. Blake knew he could never stand aside and let them shove Kentor through the airlock.

Avon smiled coldly. "Just dumping him into space would be wasteful, don't you think? I suggest we give him the chance to employ his unique talents to the fullest. Besides, we all still have a score to settle with the Terra Nostra."

Blake let out a sigh of relief. Trust Avon to come up with a practical reason for doing the right thing! Briskly, he walked over to the unconscious Kentor. "Let's lock him up in his cabin. Avon, help me carry him. Vila, go and put an extra lock on his door."

"I already—"

"Yes. Vila," Avon said. "Go and make yourself useful."

His face was impassive, but for a moment Blake thought he saw a ﬂicker of impishness in the dark eyes.

Vila ﬂexed his fingers. "Right."

"We'd better search his cabin ﬁrst," Jenna said. "In case he has another weapon stacked away."

"Agreed," several voices intoned.

Seldom had _Liberator's_ crew displayed such unity.

  
Five days later the _Liberator _was in orbit above Space City.

The crew converged in the teleport room to see Kentor off. All except Vila had armed themselves.

Jenna had contacted someone for whom she had done some smuggling in the past, a man somewhat lower in the hierarchy than the treacherous Largo. He was ambitious, though, and eager to enlist a computer wizard. The notion that Kentor would be harbouring the impression of working for the Resistance appealed to his sense of humour. He had promised to keep up the pretence.

Sitting down at the console, Avon began to set the teleport co-ordinates for the office of Jenna's contact. Jenna and Cally would accompany Kentor, to introduce him and take back his teleport bracelet.

They positioned themselves in the teleport bay.

"Ready?" Avon asked.

Jenna nodded.

//Yes,// Cally telepathed.

Kentor pursed his thin lips. "You are pathetic, Avon! A Federation servant who can't even make a proper job of closing a cell door!"

Avon gave him an enigmatic smile and flicked the switches.

"Is that how you ended up with Blake?" Kentor taunted while his figure began to shimmer. "Did they sack you for incompetence?"

A last ﬂicker and the bay was empty.

Blake walked over to the rack and took a bracelet.

Vacating his seat, Avon followed his example. gesturing to Vila to take his place at the console.

Having fastened the bracelets round their wrists, they waited in silence, ready to go to the women's rescue if the need arose. They had no reason to expect trouble but Avon, for one, always favoured contingency planning.

Blake had wanted to go down himself. It had taken Avon all his arguing skills and the backing of the others to make him see that his face was too well known to risk recognition. Ofﬁcially Space City might be neutral, the price on Blake's head could tempt the Terra Nostra to an underhand deal. Besides, Cally was the better choice because she would be able to warn them telepathically, if they were captured and deprived of their teleport bracelets.

Vila began to tap a tune on the console with his ﬁngers.

Blake told him to stop it.

Avon managed to hide his relief when Jenna's voice sounded from the console's communicator: "Bring us up."

At the same time Cally's message drifted into their heads://It is all right.//

Not taking any chances, Avon and Blake positioned themselves each at a side of the teleport bay, guns at the ready.

"Bring them up, Vila," Blake said.

Only when the two women had materialised completely, did they lower their guns. Jenna held up Kentor's bracelet. "Mission accomplished."She took off her own and put the pair on the rack.

"Successfully," Cally added, while returning her own bracelet.

Vila came away from the console. "Well, I'm glad to have seen the last of him."

  
The three of them left the room. Blake and Avon were about to follow when they simultaneously remembered that they were still wearing their bracelets. Removing his own, Blake held out his hand for Avon's. A thought occurred to him. Placing both bracelets on the rack, he asked: "Why did you leave that door open?"

Already on his way out, Avon halted in the doorway. "You heard Kentor. Pure incompetence."

Blake shook his head. "You don't make that kind of mistake! If you leave a cell door unlocked it is on purpose."

Avon remained standing immobile, a dark form outlined against the bright corridor. He did not answer.

Blake approached him, asking softly: "Was it out of admiration?"

"What was there to admire? His fraud had failed."

"Then it was out of sympathy for a fellow computer expert? You wanted to give him a chance to escape."

"Why should I waste sympathy on that idiot? The only chance I was prepared to give him was to intimidate him into confession before that thug got a chance to use his probe on him." Avon smiled cynically. "Our esteemed rebel has not shown himself particularly grateful for that, has he?"

"I doubt if he ever grasped it, " Blake said, reﬂecting that he had missed it, too.

"I got the distinct impression he did not." Avon turned and stepped into the corridor.

Blake hurried after him. "Then it must have been out of sympathy for the Resistance Movement."

Avon laughed harshly. "Don't try to attribute that kind of asinine altruism to me!"

Blake seized his arm. "Then _why_?"

Halting, Avon produced his superior smile. "As usual, you are looking in the wrong direction. My action had nothing to do with protecting that petty embezzler or his deluded friends."

Blake let go of him, knowing that now Avon had started he would go on.

He did: "Central Security was never noted for subtlety. The torturer they assigned to me in this case was the thug with the laser probe from the treason investigation."

"The man who burned your face."

"The same. He remembered me, and was positively gloating. Thwarting his lust for cruelty gave me a certain satisfaction. And when he began to boast about his promotion prospects, I saw a safe way for a bit of retribution. A man who lets a prisoner escape is not likely to be promoted. Technically, he was responsible for locking that cell door; I knew I could not be blamed for the escape."

Avon resumed his walk to the ﬂight deck. "That was all it was, Blake: a small revenge."

  
Avon would never know that his small revenge, taken in an impulse when the occasion arose, was what doomed his fraud scheme even before he embarked on it. It was true that he could not legally be held responsible for Kentor's escape, but his deed caused Central Security to suspect him of political motives. Kerr Avon the suspected crook was a nuisance and an embarrassment to his class. Kerr Avon the suspected political dissident was a danger. In propaganda value alone he would be worth more to the Resistance Movement than a dozen Roj Blakes. And with his background and abilities, he could do real harm to the Federation.

They decided it merited the services of Security's best agent, Bartholomew...


End file.
